by Lucy Wild
“Aggie’s house is half a mile onwards.”
“I can walk that distance.” She stepped down into the icy cold beck and immediately regretted it. Merely keeping her feet took a tremendous effort and taking a step towards the driver made her leg muscles ache with the effort.
“You’ll be drowned!” the driver cried, holding his hand down to pull her up.
She pushed it away. “It is only a few feet to shore,” she cried, taking another step. There was a jolting motion by her feet and something underwater crashed into her leg, sending her sprawling sideways. If it had happened in a stream she would soon have regained her balance but the driving rain combined with the force of the torrent to whip her between the back legs of the horse and the front of the coach, her last sight of the coach being the driver’s flailing arm dangling towards her as her head went under and she was washed away downstream, her lungs threatening to burst as panic rose up within her. I’m going to drown, she thought as her head twisted downwards and slammed into something hidden in the depths, all hope extinguished as blackness took her. The rain continued to fall.
Chapter 2
The telegram which called her to this remote part of the country, the same missive which would send her swirling downriver a short time afterwards, came at the best possible time.
“I wish to marry your daughter,” Richard Carlisle had said, setting down his teacup and turning to Elizabeth’s parents. She sat in the corner of their parlour utterly astounded. He’d never made mention of marriage to her, not in the entire time they’d been courting. In all honesty, she had been thinking of ending it anyway. It wasn’t that Richard was a bad person, he just wasn’t right for her. All he ever talked of was his work and how good a mother Elizabeth would be.
“I’m not sure I want to be a mother just yet,” she’d replied. “I have barely begun my own life, let alone prepare to bring another into the world.”
“Nonsense. It will be the making of you, I am sure of it.”
There were other signs that they weren’t right for each other but only Elizabeth seemed to notice them. He had almost lost his temper when she was late for one of their meetings, seemingly close to striking her before the smile returned to his face and he merely said, “See it doesn’t happen again my little songbird,” and took her hand in his, kissing it softly.
Elizabeth looked at her parents, willing them to reject his offer. Just as her father was about to speak, there was a knock on the parlour door and a maid entered, curtseying as she did so.
“Begging your pardon Mr Henderson but there’s a telegram here for Miss Elizabeth.”
“Pass it here,” Henderson replied. He opened it and read it before passing it across to her.
“What say you?” Richard asked. “Do I have your consent to take her hand?”
Elizabeth looked down at the telegram.
AH DECEASED STOP WILL INSISTS EH COMPLETE HOUSE SALE STOP TRANSPORT ARRANGED STOP NINE THIRTY TOMORROW STOP
“Who on earth is AH?” she asked, reading the telegram again.
“Your aunt Agatha,” her mother replied. “Do you remember her? We visited her when you were young.”
“I don’t recall.”
“Of course you do. She lived in a cottage near Whitby. Set in a valley surrounded by trees, we had no end of trouble getting you down from an enormous oak you’d insisted on climbing.”
A hazy memory came swimming into Elizabeth’s mind. A tiny white stone building with smoke curling from the chimney, chickens pecking around outside, a sleeping dog by the fire inside. The tree, the oak tree. She’d leapt from branch to branch with her parents admonishing her to return to the ground. Her aunt apoplectic at the mud she’d traipsed into the house. How had she forgotten that?
“If you don’t mind,” Richard said. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”
Mr Henderson waved his hand to silence their guest. “That will have to wait I am afraid for a coach comes for my daughter tomorrow morning and we will have to help her back for it is a long journey to Yorkshire and back.”
“Yorkshire? Why is she going there?”
“Be patient young man. You will have a lifetime together when she returns. A few weeks here or there will make no difference.”
The next morning she bid her parents farewell as her cases were loaded onto the top of the coach. A tear rolled down her cheek as she set off. Not only was it her first time travelling alone, it would also be the furthest she’d ever been from home. At least she would be away from Richard for a while. She felt sure her parents would accept his offer for he came from a prominent family and was expected to take over the entire estate soon enough.
The journey to Yorkshire seemed to take an eternity, the weather getting worse with every passing mile until she reached the last coaching inn before the cottage, a storm raging outside. She felt sure as she travelled the last few miles that things could get no worse but then she hadn’t anticipated being washed away down a swollen beck.
Elizabeth felt nothing at all until a strong pair of arms grabbed her dragged her out of the water, dropping her onto the grass beside the beck. Opening her eyes she was aware only of a dark shadow above her. “You alive miss?” a voice said.
She tried to reply but failed, a bout of violent coughing taking over, making her lungs ache with the effort.
“If you can cough, you can breathe. Can you sit up?”
She nodded and tried, still unable to see much of anything at all. Her hand fell onto something wet and slippery, cloying mud that seemed to cling to every inch of her. She felt hands under her arms and then she was on her feet, leaning on the shadow in the darkness, rain splashing on the two of them.
“Into here,” the shadow said, guiding her past a flaring lantern and into a carriage. As soon as she was inside the sound of the storm grew louder, the rain drumming onto the roof as she felt someone climb in beside her and pull the door closed.
“Was there anyone else in the water with you?” the voice asked.
“N….no,” she replied. “Just me. W….wh….who are you?” she asked, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper, her teeth beginning to chatter as she trembled violently.
“In a minute,” the shadow replied, coming into shape as she blinked repeatedly. It was a man, she could make out that much but little more in the gloom. “Drive on,” he called out, tapping the ceiling of the carriage. There was a creak of wheels and they began to slowly move forwards.
“Drink this,” the man said, passing her a bottle. She sipped at the contents, alcohol burning its way down into her stomach and taking the edge of the chill. “You must be frozen solid.”
You almost died, Elizabeth thought as she leaned back against the wall of the carriage. You stupid fool. You nearly drowned.
“Do you remember how you came to be in the water?” the man asked, passing her a blanket and wrapping it round her shoulders.
“I was in a coach, we got stuck. I tried to climb out but the current was too strong. I think I was washed away. Where am I?”
“Two miles from Sleights. Where were you headed?”
“My aunt’s cottage,” she replied, her head spinning. “Roseneath.” A wave of dizziness washed over her. “My bags. All my things. They’re on the coach.”
“Do not worry about that for now. First we must get you warm and dry. We’re not far from Roseneath. Are you a friend of Agatha?”
“Her niece.”
The man leaned out of the window and called up to the driver, telling him to detour to Roseneath. He sat back down, water running down his face as Elizabeth took a proper look at him.
His manner was confusing. He looked like a farmer but he spoke and acted as if he were landed gentry. Wrapped in a black longcoat with black hat, he seemed more shadow than man, his broad shoulders the only thing she noticed about his body. His eyes were dark, smouldering gleams of light, above firm cheekbones and a neat beard. He seemed on the verge of smiling at every moment but unable to quite br
ing himself to do so.
“I’m sorry for troubling you,” Elizabeth said.
“I’ve never received an apology from a drowning woman before.” The carriage turned left and the feel of the road changing, becoming bumpier and more jarring.
“We’re on the track to the cottage,” the man explained. “Soon get you dry.”
“I have no clothes to change into. They were all on my coach.”
“I’m sure we’ll find something. Are you here to visit your aunt?”
“Not quite. She has passed away and I’m here to arrange the sale of her cottage.”
“I see. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you but in all honestly I hardly knew her. We only met once when I was very young. I don’t even know why she wanted me to do this. I’ve never sold anything before.”
They drew up outside the cottage and the man leapt down to the grass. “Wait here a moment,” he said, vanishing from view. Elizabeth pulled the blanket tightly around her, feeling water dripping onto her feet from her sopping wet clothes.
Chapter 3
He returned shortly afterwards and helped her down from the carriage, supporting her arm and leading her into the cottage. He’d lit the candles and the fire, a flickering glow coming from the logs as they began to spit, the kindling flaring up beneath. It wasn’t warm yet but it soon would be.
“You did this?” she asked.
“Need to get you warm and dry do we not? Sit there.”
She sat in the worn armchair by the fire, holding her hands towards the flames and feeling them begin to thaw. “I must not keep you any longer,” she said, turning to him as he brought over a candle and set it on the mantelpiece. “I thank you for your kindness. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t saved me.”
Let’s get you fed and changed first,” he said. “I’ll have a look for some clothes.”
He headed into the bedroom, leaving the door open. She watched him rummage in the drawers before he finally returned. “It’s not much but it’ll do until that dries or we retrieve your bags.” He held out a white cotton nightdress with frilled sleeves. “I’ll wait in the bedroom whilst you change.”
He walked away, closing the door behind him and leaving Elizabeth alone by the fire. She folded the blanket and set it down on the hearth, watching steam rise from it as her trembling fingers fumbled with her jacket. It took far longer to undress than it would but her limbs were still thawing. She glanced at the doorway as she pulled down her laddered stockings but it remained tightly shut. At least he’s a gentleman, she thought as she pulled off her knickers. She took a step closer to the fire and allowed the growing flames to warm her naked skin for a few moments, turning in a small circle whilst a thought entered her head from nowhere. What if he came back out now and saw you naked? She blushed as she tried to ignore the thought, the very idea was so shameful. And yet she remained naked for a minute longer, almost as if hoping he would appear. At last she slipped the nightdress over her shoulders, brushing it down into place, surprised by how short it was. You must be taller than Agatha, she thought, not sure how she felt about so much of her legs being on display.
“You’re changed then,” the man’s voice said behind her and she jumped in fright.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Let’s make you something hot,” he replied, ignoring her question. “I can see no food here but there is tea so that will do for now.”
He went outside with the kettle. Whilst he was gone, Elizabeth climbed back into the armchair and curled her legs under her. He returned a minute later. “Freshly filled from the stream,” he said as he set it in place on the hook above the raging inferno the fire had become.
“You need stay no longer,” she said, feeling the bareness of her legs beneath her. “I am quite well.”
“Nonsense. There is no food here nor any clothing until yours dry. You shall come with me once we’ve had tea and dine at my home.”
“I couldn’t possibly impose.”
“I insist. What kind of gentleman would I be to leave a lady hungry, cold and alone?”
“I’m no longer cold,” she said, the heat of the fire at last spreading through the room. “My clothes will soon dry and I can eat in the morning.”
He looked offended. “Does my company irritate you?”
“Not at all. I merely do not wish to take up any more of your time.”
“I would not offer if I did not want to. Now let me make the tea.”
They sat drinking in silence, Elizabeth feeling on edge, as if she’d offended the man. She realised she didn’t even know his name. “Who are you?” she asked at last.
“James Franklin, but please call me Jim, everyone does. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Are you ready to travel on?”
“I surely cannot visit your home wearing only a nightdress?”
“That is true,” he said, pulling off his longcoat and wrapping it round her shoulders before shoving his hat onto her head. She looked at his body for the first time, thoughts filling her mind which made her blush deeper than ever. He looked so strong, the broad shoulders above enormous arms in a plain white shirt. His legs were like sturdy trunks of oak and yet there was a lightness to his movement as if he floated rather than stamped his way through life. “My coat suits you,” he said with the flicker of a smile. “Shall we?”
“My shoes are not yet dry.”
“I have a simple solution.”
Ignoring her protests, he effortlessly picked her up in his arms and ran for the carriage through the rain before diving inside. Elizabeth landed in the corner and Jim slipped as he joined her, tripping forwards and landing on top of her. She blinked up at his face mere inches from her own. “I do apologise,” he said, staring into her eyes as he slowly sat up.
“It’s fine,” she breathed, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. What is it about him? She looked at him as the carriage began to move. She’d never felt anything akin to this with Richard. It was an excitement, a desire to be close to him, a gladness that he was a mere foot away from her mixed with a yearning for him to move closer, to take her hand in his. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
The rain slackened as they travelled slowly up a hillside but Elizabeth could see nothing in the darkness. She wondered how late it was and how far they had to travel but she could not bring herself to ask any questions, afraid the words would tumble out as , Take me now and ravish me,’ if she were not careful. Better to remain silent, she thought than say something so inappropriate. He was bound to be married anyway, no one as handsome as him would remain single for long.
They crested the hill and then weaved their way down the other side before finally stopping by the side of a gatekeeper’s cottage.
“Welcome to my home,” Jim said, opening the door. “And look, it’s finally stopped raining.”
He stepped down and again took her in his arms, carrying her inside whilst the carriage began to rattle away up the drive. “Where is it going?” she asked.
“To the big house. I can’t stand it up there. Avoid it as much as I can.”
“Who owns the big house? Your employer?”
“He is a sorrowful man but that is a story for another time. For now let us decide what to eat.”
He set her down by a roaring fireplace and left her there, opening a cabinet and pulling out a bunch of carrots. “How does stew sound?”
“I could eat a horse.”
“It just left I’m afraid, carrots and potatoes will have to do.”
In no time at all the air was filled with the smell of herbs as he doled out two bowlfuls and called her over to the squat table, scarred as it was through years of use. “How long are you staying for?” he asked as he spooned the stew into his mouth.
“I anticipate a week to arrange the sale though unless I retrieve my bags I must return home sooner for they contained all the papers pertaining to the sale.”
The door to the
cottage scraped open and a man stepped in, hat held in his hands. “Sorry to disturb you Jim but there’s a calving not going so well. Can you come?”
He sighed and stood up. “I’m sorry but I must go. Calvin, can you arrange the transport for my friend here back to Roseneath?” He turned back to Elizabeth. “I will come and visit tomorrow morning and we will find your missing luggage.”
“You have already done far too much for me sir.”
“I insist. Until tomorrow.” He took a fresh hat and strode out of the door, leaving her with an empty bowl of stew and a sense of loss that she couldn’t explain. Do not even think about falling in love with him, she thought to herself. You are here for one purpose only and then you must return home. Do not fall in love.
As she rose from the table a voice whispered back to her. Too late.
Chapter 4
The next morning Elizabeth awoke to sound of knocking on the front door of Roseneath. Her clothes had dried by the fireplace and she did her best to remove the worst of the mud before dressing quickly. “Hold on a moment,” she called out. She had barely finished when the door opened and Jim was standing there waiting for her.
“Shall we go and collect your bags?” he asked, bowing slightly to her. The sun shone behind him, the first glimpse of blue skies since she’d arrived. As they made their way along the rutted tracks leading away from the cottage, Elizabeth found herself smiling widely.
“Sleep well?” he asked.
“A little too well I fear. I have had no time to make myself look presentable for you.”
“You look just fine to me.”
Her heart soared when he said that. Don’t fall for him, she reminded herself as they continued on their way. In little over an hour they were by the beck, the water level having subsided overnight to leave barely a trickle passing by the buckled wheel of the coach. The horses were gone as was the driver but her cases were where she’d left them on top. “At least they’re still here,” she said. “But how do we carry them back?”
